Jessie Mine: I am still in Antwerp… and altho’ it is now late in the evening, there is still no news about our departure. I had hoped that we would be away by tomorrow morning at the latest, but this does not now seem likely. Perhaps we will travel by the night train tomorrow – but this is only a guess: I know nothing definite. I daresay you can imagine how irksome it is to be messed about like this – not that we are enduring any physical hardships, but this transit camp is a depressing hole… And there is the worry about leave: I want to get to the unit and see how I stand – I cannot somehow settle down to anything with all this uncertainty: and Antwerp has little appeal under such conditions. Likewise, I simply have no heart for writing. There are many things I could talk to you about dear, but I just can’t do it… If we are still here tomorrow, I will try to find a quiet corner in some canteen, and write you a decent letter:- something I cannot do in this prison-like camp.

Goodnight, Jessie Mine…
I love you, dear… and I want to be with you… not messing around this damned continent like a lost sheep.
Always
Your Trevy.

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